


Good Clean Fun

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-02
Updated: 2009-03-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:50:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Nothing beats a hot shower at the end of a long day.





	Good Clean Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for Sparkysparky for HPValensmut 2009. Thanks goes to Anise for betaing. The story is EWE and ignores post-canon interviews.

“Nev? You home?”

Harry’s voice echoed through the house with no reply, and he half-smiled. Neville might not be inside, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t at home. He knew his husband too well, and there were other places to look.

Wiping his mud-stained boots on the doormat, he set down his Firebolt 2003 and moved through the house to the kitchen, opening the back door and peeking out. His smile widened as he saw his original hunch was correct. He’d found Neville, hard at work in the back garden, thinning out the lemon thyme in the kitchen herb plot.

The war had changed them all. No one could have known when they were teenagers that almost nothing about them had turned out quite as expected. Everyone had known, for instance, that Ron and Hermione would someday get married and have children. No one could have guessed that Hermione would be the one to join the Auror Corps, or that Ron would find a satisfying career making custom brooms.

Everyone had known Ginny would probably follow in her mother Molly’s footsteps, marrying young and starting to produce her own brood. Ginny wasn’t married - wasn’t even close to marriage, even though she and Oliver Wood had lived together since she was nineteen - and there were no children. Instead, she and Oliver were both star players with Puddlemere United.

Likewise with Luna, who no longer hunted for Snorkacks with her father, but co-owned a successful art gallery with her husband, Dean Thomas. Dean still painted and drew, but he took greater joy in exposing the work of other young artists, giving them a leg up on recognition.

Everyone thought Harry would become an Auror, and that Neville would probably end up either following Professor Sprout, or working as a landscaper or manager of his own plant nursery. No one could have guessed Harry had found happiness as Seeker for the Tutshill Tornadoes, or that Neville’s energies would be channelled into perfumery, distilling rare and exotic flowers and herbs to their essence and creating custom perfume blends commanding up to a hundred Galleons a bottle. Trevorelle Ltd had become one of the most successful post-war businesses in the Wizarding world, and Neville had proven himself a shrewd businessman as well as a gifted perfumier.

Despite his success, it was a rare day when Harry didn’t come home from practise to find Neville puttering in the garden, wearing jeans and an old tee shirt, his hands in the dirt. It was one of the things he loved most about Neville, the ability to still find joy in the simpler things in life.

Neville finished thinning the plot, gathering the discards and standing. He caught sight of Harry and brightened, a warm, slow smile spreading across his round face as he started toward the compost bin behind the potting shed. “Good day at practise?”

“Good enough. Coach didn’t yell at me, which is always a good thing.” Harry followed, waiting until Neville had binned the plants and pulled off his gloves before wrapping both arms around him, nuzzling his throat. Neville leaned back into the embrace, tipping his head back for a proper kiss. “How are things at your end?”

“No yelling today on my part,” Neville replied. “The new fragrance line is moving along on schedule. I’m supposed to meet with members of the Japanese Ministry tomorrow to discuss a contract allowing me to import a certain type of water lotus for a new blend. Not that there’s anything wrong with the lotuses we have now, but theirs are strikingly aromatic; sweet, but not cloyingly so. It’ll be interesting to see what we’ll be able to do with it.”

“Mmmhmmm.” Harry licked a path from Neville’s neck to his ear. “You’re sweaty.”

“I’ve been working. Outside. In the sun. It happens.”

“You have a point.” Harry reached into the bin, gathering loam and rubbing it between his fingers before smudging some on Neville’s cheek. “You’re dirty now, too.”

Neville turned in Harry’s arms, not bothering to hide his smirk. Rubbing his fingers over his cheek, he smeared some of the residue on Harry’s nose. “That makes two of us. I think a shower before dinner is in order.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Harry’s smirk equalled Neville’s as he wrapped both arms around his husband and Apparated both of them into the master bath. Neville’s hands closed around his shirt, lifting it up and over Harry’s head, dropping it onto the floor before leaning forward, touching his tongue to Harry’s collarbone and licking a broad stripe along its length.

“You’re sweaty too,” he murmured, busily undoing Harry’s trousers. “Why don’t you go ahead and turn on the water?”

“Water. Right.” Harry pulled his wand from his trouser pocket before Neville pushed them too far down his legs and out of reach, aiming for the shower and speaking the necessary spell. Setting the wand atop the sink, he toed off his trainers and finished kicking off the jeans, reaching for the hem of Neville’s shirt.

Neville grinned, lifting his arms up overhead without a word. Harry had him undressed in almost no time at all, fingertips grazing lightly over Neville’s erection a moment longer than was needful as he tugged his boxers over his hips.

“You’re not looking forward to this at all,” Neville teased, reaching for the shower door with one hand, the other circling Harry’s cock and giving it a light pull. “I’m almost beginning to think you planned this.”

“Who, me?” Harry tried to look innocent, the expression becoming a myopic blink when Neville took off his glasses and set them aside before leaning in for a playful kiss, tugging him into the shower and under the blissfully warm spray that had already begun filling the room with steam.

Grabbing a flannel and a cake of herbal-scented soap, Harry lathered the cloth and stood behind Neville, the water from the shower head pounding his back and shoulders, slowly beginning to rub the soapy flannel over Neville’s skin. He took his time with it, running his hands over Neville’s body, the touches lingering across his shoulders, buttocks, and thighs. He heard Neville’s sigh of contentment as Harry soaped him with thorough care and hid a satisfied smile, scrubbing the flannel over one of Neville’s ankles. Shifting to the front, Harry slowly worked his way back up, intentionally avoiding Neville’s genitals in favour of his stomach and chest.

“ ‘S nice,” Neville murmured.

“Think so?” Harry moved back behind Neville, pulling him back against his hips, trapping his erection between them, the flannel moving again over Neville’s chest and down over his belly, until he was completely covered in woodsy-smelling soapsuds. Dropping the flannel, he began gently fondling Neville’s cock and balls, the touches light and fleeting.

Neville’s contented sighs changed, becoming a hitching gasp as Harry’s fingers ghosted over his length. His hips pushed back, pressing Harry’s cock against his back, dragging a gasp from Harry’s lips as it slid and rubbed between their bodies. Lifting an arm, Neville curved it around Harry’s neck, tipping his face upward for a kiss. Harry was glad his back shielded him from most of the cascading water, though rivulets trickled past Harry’s shoulders and down his chest. Neville’s tongue darted out, licking at a stray droplet, and Harry bent his head, lips brushing over Neville’s before descending to his jaw, nipping along the line of it. Neville’s eyes fluttered shut, rubbing harder against Harry’s trapped cock, whimpering deep in his throat as nimble fingers coaxed him to full hardness.

“You’re right, you realise,” Harry murmured, nibbling at Neville’s earlobe. “I actually have been thinking about this all day. Being here, being with you. Tell me what you want.” He ground against Neville’s back, groaning at the friction around his cock, enjoying the sensation for several moments before spinning Neville to face him, kissing him deeply. “Tell me, and it’s yours.”

Neville moaned happily into the kiss, hands dropping to Harry’s arse and kneading the taut muscles there until he had Harry wriggling against him. His hand slipped between their bodies, encircling them both and stroking until they were both gasping and mewling into each other’s mouths. Releasing Harry’s arse, Neville’s hands slid over his ribs to his chest and nipples, grazing them with his thumbs until they contracted beneath his touch.

Breaking the kiss, Neville glanced around, laughing aloud when he saw the tube of waterproof lube Harry had conveniently placed there earlier that morning…just in case.

“You really were thinking of this all day!”

“I told you I was! You didn’t believe me?”

“Horny Harry,” Neville said fondly, bending his head and taking a nipple into his mouth, biting down gently. Reaching for the lube, he repeated the action with Harry’s other nipple. Kissing a path down his chest and stomach, Neville knelt in front of Harry, scraping wet hair from his eyes and peering up at him. “You asked earlier what I wanted? I want to suck you until you come, and then fuck you against the shower tiles until you scream my name. Unless you had something else in mind, of course.”

He took Harry into his mouth, suckling gently, and Harry decided against replying. He’d only intended to say Neville’s intentions sounded brilliant; and he was off to an equally brilliant start, managing to uncap the lube one-handed and squeezing some onto his fingers. His hand moved between Harry’s legs, finding his entrance and stroking before pressing the tip of his forefinger inside.

Harry’s head fell back, eyes squeezing shut as Neville’s mouth engulfed him, wet and hot and perfect. Willing his eyes to open, he peeked down, watching his cock slide in and out between Neville’s rounded lips. He pushed back against Neville’s finger teasing his hole, but the shift sent water cascading down his chest, splashing onto Neville’s face. Shifting again to shield Neville from the spray of water, Harry thrust deeper into Neville’s mouth, pulling a grunt of pleasure from his throat.

“Fuck yeah…God, your mouth…Fuck…Want to…Just like that…” Harry tangled his hands into Neville’s wet hair, kneading and pulling, trying to resist the urge to shove his cock down Neville’s throat.

He let hot water and hotter words wash over Neville as he continued sucking Harry, sliding two fingers inside, thrusting at the same pace and rhythm as his mouth bobbing along Harry’s length. His free hand curled around Harry’s hip, giving it a gentle squeeze before moving around to cup one arse cheek, squeezing it as well before adding a third slicked finger, twisting and criss-crossing them, stretching Harry wide before thrusting into him hard and fast, making Harry’s tone and already raunchy exclamations lift another, higher, pitch. Neville hummed around him approvingly, fingers seeking and finding his prostate and stroking.

Harry’s hips bucked, forcing himself deeper into Neville’s hot, wicked mouth, fingers tightening in Neville’s hair to the point he almost feared the other man might yelp in pain and stop. Neville continued humming though, his fingers pressing against Harry’s prostate again, and he was lost. Overwhelmed by the tension coiling through his body, Harry let the pleasure overtake him, starting deep within his belly, firing upward through his spine and down his legs until the blood pounded in his ears and his toes curled, hips snapping forward as he came down Neville’s throat. The sound of his pleasure bounced off the ceramic tile as Neville caught and swallowed most of his release.

Letting go of Neville’s hair once the last pulse left him, Harry urged him onto his feet and kissed Neville hard, still desperate and frantic and needing more. He tasted himself on Neville’s lips and made a small, hungry sound, drawing Neville’s tongue into his mouth and sucking at it, tasting more of his come there. Neville writhed against him, erection grinding against Harry’s hip, sharp teeth biting down on his lower lip, licking away the brief stinging pain.

His hands moved to Harry’s waist, turning him around facing the tile, nudging him here and there to his satisfaction. Looking back over his shoulder, he watched Neville reach again for the lube, slicking his cock and stepping forward, grasping Harry’s hips. He pushed inside in a single thrust and a guttural groan, sinking balls-deep into Harry’s channel, thrusting almost immediately, the strokes long and deep. One hand let go of Harry’s hip, reaching around his chest to pinch and twist at both nipples until Harry pushed back, moaning, into Neville’s pounding cock, acquiescing to the rhythm set for him. Only then did his hand slide further down Harry’s chest and stomach to fondle and stroke Harry’s cock with the same light, teasing touches Harry had employed earlier while washing Neville.

Harry’s fingers slipped over the wet tile, trying to hold onto something, anything, as Neville’s cock in his arse and Neville’s hand stroked him to new hardness, leaving him groaning and whimpering with the pleasure of that second-time around feeling. Pushing back again with his hips, he implored, “Harder, Nev…Fuck me harder!”

Neville seemed more than happy to comply, fingers gripping Harry’s hipbones firmly, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in, hard and relentless. Harry urged him on with breathless moans and cries, rocking back and forth between the hand pumping at his cock and the cock pumping into his arse. Neville’s mouth pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along his shoulders and the top of his spine, wherever his lips could reach, tongue flicking at the water droplets beaded on Harry’s skin.

“Harry, I’m close,” he gasped, head pressing against Harry’s shoulder. “Gonna come…”

“Go on, then,” Harry urged, clenching his arse tight around Neville’s pounding length, one hand closing around Neville’s on his hip. Their fingers linked as Neville’s thrusts sped up, gripping and grounding them both as Neville stiffened against him, gasping.

“Oh God…oh fuck…” Neville clung to Harry as he rode out his climax, wetness slicking Harry’s arse with each pulse. He stayed inside even after he’d softened completely, nipping at Harry’s shoulder. Harry didn’t mind, loving the connection between them, wanting it to last as long as possible.

He let out a soft moan as Neville resumed stroking him, squeezing and sliding along his length at the speed and pressure Harry liked best, pulling him inexorably toward his next climax. Harry rested his head in the crook of his elbow, watching Neville touch and tug at him, light tingles of pleasure swirling around his balls. His free hand toyed at a nipple, twirling and tweaking at the hard nub, sending additional bolts of pleasure straight to his cock. A hard pinch left him hovering at the brink, just as Neville’s thumb brushed over the head, and that was all it took. Biting his lip, Harry plunged over the edge, shuddering as he spilled all over Neville’s hand, the wall tiles, and the shower floor.

Neville pulled out of him once the last few tremors wracked through Harry’s body, turning him around and drawing him into a deep, sated kiss, hands winding through Harry’s wet, black hair.

“Was that along the lines of what you were hoping for?” he murmured against Harry’s lips.

“Mmmm, perfect. I may expect this from you every day.”

Neville laughed, one hand slapping Harry’s arse playfully. “Don’t you mean I might expect this from you every day? You weren’t the only one enjoying yourself here!”

“True, you have a point.” Harry watched Neville pick up the flannel and soap, lathering it and returning the favour, soaping Harry clean, working with methodical care down Harry’s wiry frame before standing them both beneath the spray to rinse.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry,” Neville commented, shutting off the water and grabbing fluffy towels for both of them to dry off. Scrubbing excess water from his hair, he continued, “I can fix sandwiches and crisps in the kitchen, or we could order takeaway. Whatever you’re in the mood for having.”

“Takeaway,” Harry decided, leaning in for another kiss. “No sense dirtying the kitchen or ourselves after all this, yeah?”

“Whatever you say, Harry.” Neville rolled his eyes and smiled. “Whatever you say.”


End file.
